High Society
by AutumnRhythm
Summary: On her way to Philadelphia, a pre-vampire Rosalie brushes elbows with Grace Kelly and discovers something about herself...


**A/N: This is in response to Eowyn77's challenge that a Cullen should "brush elbows" with a character who in modern times is dead. It didn't specify whether the Cullen had to be a vampire yet, though, so… I learned about the challenge surprisingly late, so this was thrown together in a very short amount of time…but it was a lot of fun to do. It's in honor of Grace Kelly, and is named after one of her many films. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot…**

**High Society**

"Darling, you mean the world to me."

I looked over at Royce and smiled. "Of course, dear. You as well." Was it terribly vain of me to not love my fiancée? He was handsome, and smart, and rich…he was everything I could ever dream of. Not like Vera and her husband with their little Henry—they were poor and nearly destitute. Who were they compared to the high society of New York? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

But I, Rosalie Hale? I would be something. Something far more than anything my social climbing family had ever dreamed about.

I was born beautiful for a reason, after all. My shortsighted parents had seen that far, at least. I was born beautiful to marry a handsome, wealthy man worthy of my appearance. He would make me rich, he would make me happy, and above all, he would adore me.

I was Rosalie Hale. Who could _not_ adore me? Though there was a finite difference between adoration and love…

"Darling?"

I once more directed my attention to my fiancée. I smiled at him beatifically, allowing my golden tresses to fall gently in front of my face. His grey eyes darkened ever so slightly. "Yes, dear?"

"We're only going to be in Pennsylvania for one week, and then we'll be back home. We'll be married soon. So don't worry." His hand grasped mine for a moment, and then fell back to his side. I frowned ever so slightly—I longed for more sustained contact. Not lustful, hormone-driven kisses, but holding hands or clinging to one another, watching the sunset. Wasn't that what love was supposed to be like, after all? Sweet nothings, tender phrases, an eternity of one other…

"We'll be the most beautiful couple in all of Rochester," I whispered, the train rattling around me. Words were the closest I could come to truly expressing my affection.

"I'll be the luckiest man in the world," he said, showing his pale white teeth. "With the most beautiful bride."

Yes. The most beautiful bride in the world—me, naturally. "Yes," I smiled. "And the most dashing husband."

He chuckled. "True."

That was something I liked about Royce—he wasn't afraid to admit to his beauty. Much like me…I knew I was gorgeous. I had no qualms about letting the rest of the world know it, as well.

I gazed out the window for a moment, eyeing the rolling hills that signaled the fact that we had entered into the hilly state of Pennsylvania. "Royce," I said, rising and clutching my purse, "I'll be in the lavatory, if you need me." I didn't actually need to go to the bathroom—I simply needed to be alone and out of this stuffy, box-like chamber.

He nodded and picked up his briefcase, rummaging through it for a particular file. "I'll be working on some business deals. Don't bother me."

My smile never faltered.

I gracefully exited the compartment, hurrying down the narrow hall and to the end of the corridor. A two-person bathroom was the most accommodating on the entire train—it was a luxury available to first class alone—and, of course, I traveled first class; I wouldn't be Rosalie Hale if I didn't. I entered silently, twisting into the small space, and focused on my appearance in the absurdly tiny mirror—beautiful, as always.

I heard a cough from beside me, and a slight girl of fourteen or so brushed her way past me to examine her own reflection in the mirror. My eyes widened so slightly—she looked very much like me. Beautiful, elegant…

"Hello," she said politely. "I hope you don't mind."

Of course I minded. I loved my reflection. But it would not do to voice my true feelings. "Not at all," I replied, smiling.

She grinned up at me. "Wonderful," and began to powder her nose. "My name's Grace," she said conversationally. "Grace Kelly."

"Rosalie Hale," I said reservedly, glancing at my own visionary face reflected above her fair façade. I had slight satisfaction knowing that I was, indeed, more beautiful than she.

"What brings you to Pennsylvania?"

I pursed my lips. Such personal questions—in the lavatory of a train, no less! But I felt as if I knew this girl—she was young and pretty and desirable…she was me at the age of fourteen. No doubt she was itching to tell her own story, to show a small amount of her place in this vast universe, to let everyone know that she was important—after all, that's what I would have done.

"My fiancée is traveling for business," I said easily.

She nodded sympathetically. "My father's in business. It seems awfully boring."

I laughed, despite myself. "It is rather tedious." Royce had tried once to explain his profession to me—I had instead focused on something I believed to be more worthy of my attentions: myself.

She smiled and patted her perfectly pinned blonde hair. "My mother and father want me to do well, of course, and business or things of that sort seem so lucrative, but I would adore becoming an actress."

"An actress?" my voice sounded skeptical, though I knew starring in films was the normal goal for a pretty young girl idolizing Hollywood; again, very much like me—though my aspirations had always included marriage and a child.

"Like Ingrid Bergman," she said dreamily. "Oh, can't you just picture it? Playing opposite Joseph Cotton, Clair de Lune in the background as you waltz together…" she sighed. "Wouldn't that be absolutely delicious?"

"I can think of better men than Joseph Cotton to spend my time with," I answered, smiling slightly. I personally detested Joseph Cotton—I preferred Rudolph Valentino.

She arched one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Oh, really? Is this because he's an actor?"

"No, because my fiancée already happens to be perfect." At least, as close as I could get.

She laughed, a tinkling, ringing sound. "Of course. Well, I assume I would feel that way, too, in your place."

I found it odd that, instead of wanting to talk about myself, which so often was the case, I wanted to discuss the life of this young girl—so I turned the conversation around. "And you? What are you doing in Pennsylvania?"

"Oh, school," she said, sounding bored. "You know. I attend Stevens in Germantown, and it can be awfully dull. I just came back from vacationing at Ocean City with Mother and Father. It was absolutely divine—it's a wonderful resort. Of course, one always wishes that these trips would last forever, but time stops for no man."

"Or woman," I added, and we laughed together.

"When are you getting married?" she inquired suddenly, her blue eyes glancing into my violet ones.

I smiled slightly. "One week. We're stopping here for only a short while, and then back to New York."

"I hope you two are very happy," she said sincerely, before shutting her handbag with a snap. "Well," she said brightly, "I'd better be off, or mother and father will be worried." She swept out of the small bathroom with a small wave of her hand and a tinkling laugh.

I sighed and turned back to my reflection. Grace Kelly? Interesting girl. I could already tell her future, though—there would be no drama or acting for her. She would wed a wealthy, enterprising young man, give birth to several beautiful babies, and never trouble herself with the silly notions of such prospects again…in short, she would be nothing. And eventually, she would wither, she would dim, she would die…beauty wasn't timeless. Nothing was.

Though beauty…was all I had.

I hurried out of the lavatory and back to my compartment, slowly entering and lowering myself onto the seat. This was a revelation. A monumental revelation, an epiphany, even, that one day…I would not be beautiful. The youth and prettiness of that young woman, Grace Kelly, could never be captured forever. Only through death could it be immortalized.

But I would never use death to make me timeless. I would never have to resort to that.

I gazed at my fiancée, bent over his work, his hands scribbling something down on a piece of paper as the train jolted up and down.

One day Royce would not be beautiful, either. One day, death would come, that shrouded figure, and what would his money do then? You couldn't pay off the afterlife. You couldn't put off Heaven…or Hell.

I sighed and leaned back in my seat. Those were questions for the future, not for now. Why should I worry? I had a long, happy life ahead of me. A life full of Royce, of adoration, of beauty, of money…who needed love when I could have all of that?

I decided it was best not to think about it at all. Being simply beautiful was hard enough.

**A/N: Lots of foreshadowing going on in there…I've never met Grace Kelly (I wasn't alive yet), so I don't know if I accurately depicted her personality or not. However, all of the factual stuff (Stevens School in Germantown, Ocean City…) is true. And, to put this into context, this is in 1933, a week or so before Rosalie is murdered by Royce…**

**I hope you enjoyed! **


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